


Two-Way Parchment

by Best_Kind_of_Insanity



Series: Who is talking to me? [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Pen Pals, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-10-12
Packaged: 2018-08-17 05:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8132875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Best_Kind_of_Insanity/pseuds/Best_Kind_of_Insanity
Summary: When Grace finds parchment that writes back, they get off on a rocky start. But somehow she and this person on the other end of the parchment seem to have established a steady form of communication. They talk nearly every day and Grace can hardly remember what she spend her days on before they met. Even though they’ve never really met…





	1. Padfoot

**Author's Note:**

> This is most likely on of the least original stories I’ve written so far. It’s the typical girl-talks-to-a-boy-she-starts-to-like-without-knowing-his-real-identity kind of story. It’s been done many times before but I was struck with the desire to write my own version of such a story. I figure there must be a reason everyone’s writing and reading these things. I really enjoyed writing this and if anyone else enjoys reading it, then it was well worth the effort. Somehow this turned out much longer than the short one-shot I intended it to be so I split it up into two parts.

If there’s one thing Grace Clementine hates more than History of Magic, it’s writing a paper on History of Magic. More specifically, the very boring International Warlock Convention of 1289, not to be confused with the International Warlock Assembly of 1298. Which is such a tiny speck in the vast history of wizarding kind that there’s hardly a book on it in the Library, let alone one that all her fellow classmates haven’t already quoted from in their essays. She guesses she could do the same and maybe only get an Above Average for her copycatting skills.

 

But Grace has some pretty big shoes to fill since her big sister graduated top of her class, after being Prefect since her fifth and Captain of the chess team since sixth year at Hogwarts. The least Grace, who is most definitely no Emily Clementine, can do, is not fail at writing a paper for her least favourite subject. If only the Library books would help her out. Instead they seem to be hiding the valuable information anywhere but on their pages.

 

It takes her a good half hour before she finally finds a book that contains more detailed information concerning the Convention. Too bad it’s only two paragraphs.

 

Oh, to hell with it! She’ll just write really big. It’s not like Binns will read it anyway.

 

Except that not only are the books in the Library ganging up on her but her own bag seems to be in on the conspiracy. She’s absolutely certain she had put parchment in there when she left her dorm but now it’s nowhere to be seen. How is she supposed to write an essay without parchment? She guesses she could go back to her dorm and come back here but she’ll waste at least half an hour on that and she had really wanted to join her friends for a snowball fight later on.

 

Unfortunately there seems nothing else to be done than return reluctantly to her dorm anyway until she spots an abandoned piece of parchment lying on an unoccupied table in the back of the Library, not too far from where Grace is sitting. She looks around to see if she’s overlooking the owner of the parchment but there doesn’t seem to be anyone around. Well, whoever it belonged to surely wouldn’t miss it and she really needs to finish that essay if she still wants to hang out with her friends today.

 

So she walks towards the empty table, picks up the piece of parchment that is as blank as Grace’s inspiration for this essay and takes it back to her own seat. She dips her quill in ink and starts writing with a big sigh.

**The International Warlock Convention was a meeting held in 1289. A subcommittee of Sardinian sorcerers was also involved in the convention to a certain degree.**

 

But as Grace dips her quill in ink again to continue, a line that she didn’t write appears under her sentences.

****

**_What the hell, Prongs? Why are you writing to me about some stuff that happened almost 700 years ago?_ **

 

Grace stares at her now ruined essay with big eyes. Where did those words come from? Because she definitely didn’t write that down. She doesn’t even know what a prongs is.

 

Just to be sure that it’s not really a figment of her imagination – she hadn’t gotten much sleep last night since one of her dorm members has such a bad cold, her snoring sounded like a collapsing tower – she rubs her eyes and tries to stare down at the offensive text on the parchment. Nope, not a hallucination. It’s still very much there. Well, it won’t be for long. She pulls out her wand and returns the parchment to the blank paper she found it as. Unfortunately that means she’ll have to start over again. It’s a good thing she hadn’t gotten too far yet then.

**The International Warlock Convention was a meeting-**

****

**_Prongs!! Did you just erase me?! What is wrong with you, man? Rude!_ **

 

Damn it! Why won’t this parchment let her write her essay? It’s not like she really wants to either but how can this paper be boycotting her like this? It’s ridiculous.

 

Is it cursed? That would explain it’s strange behaviour and why it would be left unattended at the Library like that. But if there’s some kind of dark magic involved, it should leave a trace. Very well. Grace didn’t learn tracing magic for nothing.

 

She pulls out her wand and casts a simply charm that would let her know if dark magic was involved with this item but all it does is cast a soothing white light. So, it’s not evil or hexed. But what is it then?

 

Well, if there’s anything Grace has learned from being a Ravenclaw for six years now, it’s that when you don’t know something, it never hurts to ask.

**What are you?**

 

She feels utterly ridiculous for asking parchment such a question but she needs to in order to quell this curiosity. Because it might not be evil but it’s definitely something special. And the Ravenclaw inside of her is nagging to get to the bottom of this.

****

**_Has your flower hexed you again? You sound like you took some damage to the head._ **

 

Hmmm, not at all the kind of answer she had expected. Also, she wasn’t aware that there are magical flowers that can hex you. Is it like the wizard version of a flesh-eating plant? Although they do have that in the wizarding world as well. Despite Grace being a halfblood, she’s always tried to research everything unfamiliar she crosses paths with. Perhaps she should spend more time learning about Herbology. Clearly there’s still a lot she doesn’t know. Or she could just ask this strange, sassy piece of parchment.

**What kind of a flower would that be? I’ve heard of Snargaluffs and Venomous Tentacula before but never of a flower that can hex people.**

 

It takes a while for the parchment to answer her back. But as it does so, Grace starts to get the idea that it’s not really the paper that’s writing back to her.

****

**_Prongs. You just walked into the common room._ **

 

Is she talking to another person? If not, do pieces of parchment have common rooms? What would that look like?

****

**_Have you found a way to be in two places at once and didn’t tell me about it?_ **

**No.**

****

**_Didn’t think so._ **

 

Grace continues to stare at the parchment, hoping that she’s still going to get an answer to her question about hexing flowers but the parchment, or actually the person controlling the parchment, doesn’t write back to her. His or her silence is annoying her and when she can’t take another second staring at the non-changing sentences, she grabs her quill again.

**What’s a prongs?**

 

She can’t help it. She’s curious of nature and this thing in her hands and the most likely human being writing back to her has the possibility to explain to her some things she clearly didn’t know yet. And for some reason, the person is refusing to answer her now.

 

She glares at the parchment for a couple more minutes before deciding that this isn’t getting her anywhere. Not to mention that the essay she had originally started on isn’t even close to being finished. She puts all her stuff in her bag and grabs the book with the necessary information to go check it out when she finds herself wondering what to do with the magical parchment.

 

It’s nothing evil, she now knows, but it still doesn’t feel right to just leave it here for anyone to find. Besides, she really wants to find out what a prongs is. So she shoves the parchment in her bag as well and leaves the Library to go finish that essay in her common room, on a normal piece of parchment that doesn’t write back.

 

***

 

The next day, during her free period, she pulls out the intriguing piece of parchment from the bottom of her bag only to come to the conclusion that yesterday’s conversation is no longer written on it. She dug very deep in her bag and pulled out things that hadn’t seen the light of day for years just to be sure that the blank parchment is the same as the one she found in the Library a day earlier.

 

So the parchment had somehow cleaned itself. Or maybe this other person did. That would be pretty hypocritical of them since they seemed pissed when she had done it.

 

But if it had happened automatically, then maybe this person hadn’t read her question yet. How were they supposed to answer her if they didn’t even know what she wanted to find out? So Grace writes her question down once more.

**What is a prongs?**

 

She doesn’t immediately get an answer and since it’s time for her Transfiguration lesson now, she puts the parchment away again, disappointed at the silence she receives from the other side.

 

When she checks the parchment during lunch, her question is still on it but has not yet received an answer. When she checks it again right before going to bed, there’s still no answer but her question is gone. So either there’s a timer on the parchment erasing itself or it only disappears when the other person has read the message. But then why haven’t they answered?

 

The next morning, there’s still no response but Grace has never been one to give up on anything and so she asks her question again.

**What’s a prongs?**

 

The person on the other side of the parchment doesn’t answer her but since her question disappears a couple hours later, she knows they’ve read them.

 

Well, screw them.  Because she’s just going to keep asking her question until she gets an answer.

 

And so she does. Every single day, for two weeks, she asks this person what a prongs is.

**You still haven’t told me what a prongs is.**

 

Silence.

**I’ve looked it up and according to the dictionary a prong is the pointy part of a fork. That’s not a direct quote.**

 

Silence.

**What are prongs? (I highly suspect it to be a plural)**

 

Silence.

**Is it an insult? Like ‘you are such a prongs’. Like slang for ponce?**

 

Silence.

**I wonder what prongs are. If only there was someone at the other end of this parchment who could tell me. If only…**

 

Silence.

**According to another dictionary it can also be parts of an operation. If that’s what you meant, it made even less sense than the fork.**

 

Silence.

**Can you use it in a sentence?**

 

Silence.

**Other than ‘you are such a prongs’. That’s just no good.**

 

Silence.

**Won’t you tell me what prongs are?**

 

Silence.

**Maybe I read it wrong? Perhaps it was prungs?**

 

Silence.

**What’s a prung?**

 

Silence.

**Or maybe prang?**

 

Silence.

**I looked prang up as well. I don’t suppose you were calling me a Hindu shrine?**

 

Silence.

**Please tell me what prongs are. The not knowing is driving me crazy. In case you couldn’t tell.**

****

**_Prongs is a person._ **

 

Grace can’t believe her own eyes when she pulls out the parchment from her bag and finds that the person has finally – finally! – answered her question. She nearly spills all her ink over her table in the common room in her eagerness to get the conversation going now that it’s finally no longer a monologue.

**Somebody actually named their kid Prongs?**

 

Those parents really should have looked up the meaning of it. Now they have a kid called ‘pointy end of fork’.

 

It takes a while for the person to write back but since five minutes is much faster than two weeks, Grace isn’t complaining.

****

**_It’s a nickname._ **

 

Oh, that makes more sense.

**Then what does it mean? There’s always a story behind a nickname, right?**

 

She eagerly awaits the response as she thinks now might be the moment she finally finds out what Prongs means. Even if it is some crappy story about someone who got poked with a fork.

****

**_It’s for inner circle only._ **

 

How lame! After all the time and effort she had to put into getting this person to finally write back to her, this is the ultimate answer. God, this was such a waste of her time. Grace angrily puts the parchment away again and marches up to her dorm.

 

***

 

Grace’s anger at the person on the other side of the parchment lasts a total of thirteen hours and once they are up, she realises there are still some questions she likes to ask this guy or girl. And her curiosity is stronger than her pride.

**Do hexing flowers really exist?**

 

She receives an answer about a half hour later.

****

**_Not that I know of. Yet again, it’s a nickname._ **

**I’m really glad we’re not friends. You suck at giving nicknames.**

****

**_Oh, but we don’t need to be friends for that. I’ve already given you a nickname. You even get two. I’m a little torn between crazy stalker and invading thief._ **

 

She frowns at that. Why did they have to get that mean all of a sudden? They were just making conversation.

**You’re rude. And I’m not a thief.**

 

Perhaps she should also point out that’s she’s not a stalker either. But before she can do that, the person has answered.

****

**_Really? Because I don’t remember giving you that parchment._ **

**I found it in the Library. Fair and square.**

****

**_My friend’s an idiot._ **

**His friend is too.**

 

Even though Grace can tell that the other person is writing a response as the ink lines beneath her words don’t come from her quill but this person’s pissed her off again. And she’s not going to sit around, allowing them to insult her.

 

***

 

**_I want it back._ **

 

‘If this is their idea of an apology, it needs some serious work,’ Grace thinks to herself when she pulls out the parchment again the next day.

**Too bad. I’ve grown rather attached to it. Can I talk to anyone with it or does it have to be you?**

 

It’s a pretty nifty thing but if it’s limited to only this rude person, perhaps she doesn’t want to keep it then.

****

**_It’s part of a set. You can only talk to the person who has the other one. Since you don’t want to talk to me, how about giving it back?_ **

**Where did you get it?**

 

Grace is purposely avoiding the question to return the item. Instead, she wants to know what it is exactly that she has in her possession now. Who knows, perhaps she could purchase a set of her own. It would be a really convenient way to talk to her family instead of all the back and forth her owl needs to do now. It would be just like talking to them in person.

****

**_I invented it._ **

 

What? There’s no way. It seems like pretty complicated magic and this person didn’t exactly strike her as a genius.

**Really?**

 

She doesn’t want to call them a liar to their face, or to their parchment of whatever variation of the expression would work in this situation, but that doesn’t mean she’s inclined to believe them on their word.

****

**_It was a team effort though._ **

**Prongs?**

****

**_Yeah, he helped out as well. Though I don’t really think him lying around, telling the rest of us what’s wrong with it is real assistance._ **

**He’s lazy.**

****

**_The laziest._ **

**Is he your best friend?**

 

Grace herself has always found the notion of a best friend a bit discriminating to all your other friends but as she grows older she understands that it could be pretty great to have another person know you so well and for so long already that you needn’t fear they’ll walk away once they realise exactly who you are.

 

She has her fair share of friends but not a best one. And though she never really wished for one, she gets the appeal.

****

**_I guess he is. Though I’ve always thought of him more as a brother._ **

 

Now that’s a pretty foreign concept to her. Siblings are reasons to feeling inferior and not enough in comparison. They’re what drive you to work harder and do better. But they’re not people to confide in or have fun with. At least, that’s not something Emily does.

**Do you have any real brothers or sisters?**

 

It’s a typical question. People don’t act weird because of things like that. Even Grace can admit to having one older sister. But for the next three days this parchment person doesn’t talk back again and Grace has the feeling that she accidentally broached a sensitive subject.

 

 ***

 

**I’m sorry if I said something I shouldn’t have.**

 

As soon as she writes it down, she wants to bar it but that apparently doesn’t work on this magical parchment. She doesn’t think she should apologise, even if she unknowingly asked after something taboo. But still, she can’t stand the idea that someone is upset because of something she said. It just doesn’t sit well with her.

****

**_It’s okay._ **

 

But that’s where the conversation ends so maybe they’re not as cool as Grace likes to think.

**Did Prongs get in trouble for losing the parchment?**

 

Talking about their best friend, tends to put this person in a good mood so it’s worth a try.

****

**_Hell yeah, Moony nearly ripped him a new one. Totally deserved._ **

 

Moony?

**Nickname?**

****

**_Yep :)_ **

 

It’s the first time this other person has used an emoticon and in general Grace isn’t a big fan of it – stuff like that it supposed to be expressed face-to-face and just seems to lose some of its value written down – but this time it makes her smile in return, feeling something warm bloom inside of her knowing that she just made someone smile, by not trying at all.

**That might be the least terrible one. I’m assuming you had nothing to do with it?**

****

**_Who’s being mean now? I happen to be the mastermind behind all our awesome names._ **

**All of them? What are the others then?**

****

**_I don’t know if I should tell…_ **

**Why not? Are they more embarrassing than Prongs and Moony? I’m having a hard time imagining that.**

****

**_It’s kind of a thing between me and my friends._ **

**Oh well, this stalker / thief doesn’t want to get in between buddies.**

****

**_Haha, it would take way more than that._ **

 

Grace’s dorm members yell at her to turn down the light of her wand, which she uses to illuminate the piece of parchment. As they tell her they want their sleep, she’s shocked to see it’s already this late in the evening. She had only meant to talk to the person for five minutes tops, but that quickly got out of hand.

 

She reluctantly puts away her quill and ink. She’s about to do the same to the parchment when she sees a new sentence appear.

****

**_I shouldn’t have called you a thief. I know you’re not._ **

 

This person isn’t so bad after all.

 

***

 

She’s not entirely sure how she did it and when exactly things turned around but the person with the twin’s parchment in their position no longer tries to ignore her or get her to return her trophy. Instead they’ve established some steady form of communication. They talk nearly every day and Grace can hardly remember what she spend her days on before they met. Even though they’ve never really met…

 

 “Can I ask you something?” Maggie Broker, one of Grace’s dorm members and friends stops her when she’s retiring to the dorm again, way too early to go to sleep.

 

“Sure,” Grace smiles at her.

 

“Something’s been very different about you. And I’m wondering what that is. It’s got to have something to do with you going to bed so early every night even though you’re always still up when everyone else goes to sleep.”

 

“Different?” Grace frowns, upset that she’s made some unnoticeable changes that don’t seem to please the other girls.

 

“Good different,” Maggie is quick to justify. “I’m just curious, that’s all.”

 

Grace likes the tentative friendship she has with this other person and doesn’t really want to involve someone else in it. It seems too private for that. But Maggie and Grace have been friends since first year and it’s not as though the other person would even know her to be there.

 

“I’ll show you,” She smiles at her friend and heads up the stairs with the short blonde in tow.

 

Maggie frowns in confusion at her when she pulls out her ink, quill and the magical two-way parchment which according to the other person is the correct term for it. Before her friend can ask what she’s doing, she pens down a short ‘hello’, knowing that she’ll get an answer soon. After all, this is the hour they usually talk.

****

**_What’s up?_ **

 

“Talking parchment?” Maggie frowns as she reads along over Grace’s shoulder.

 

“No,” She shakes her head. “Someone has the same magical parchment and through them, we can talk to each other.”

 

“That’s what’s hogging all your time? Why don’t you just talk to them in person? Wouldn’t that be much easier than having to write everything down?”

 

“I can’t.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“I don’t know who it is.”

 

Maggie stares at her as though she just told her she thinks knowledge is overrated.

 

“You’ve been talking to a stranger this entire time? What are you thinking, Grace! You could have been talking to a pervert! Some middle aged man who uses these kind of tricks to lure young, naïve girls into his trap.”

 

“They’re not,” Grace insists. “They’re a student here at Hogwarts. We’ve talked about common rooms and Houses before.”

 

“They?” Maggie frowns. “You don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl?”

 

“No.”

 

She thinks it might be a guy. The way they talk, the stuff they talk about, the fact that all the friends they mention are guys as well or maybe this is just a girl who’s not a girly girl. To be honest, it doesn’t really matter. Grace likes this person for _who_ they are.

 

“You’ve never asked?”

 

“No.”

 

She hadn’t even thought about asking them. Like she said, it doesn’t matter.

 

“Why the hell not?”

 

“I don’t care,” She shrugs.

 

“You should! If it’s a girl, this is possibly some bitchy attempt at trying to dig up dirt about you,” Grace wonders what kind of a girl would do that and is pretty sure she doesn’t know any that would. “And if it’s a guy, it can still be a pervert.”

 

She thinks guys can be bitches too and girls can be perverts as well but the concerned, outraged expression on Maggie’s face makes it clear this is not the time to discuss stereotypes.

 

“They’re not,” She repeats but it doesn’t look like her friend will take her word for it.

 

“Let’s find out, shall we?”

 

Maggie grabs the quill before Grace can protest and uses a spell that alters her own handwriting to resemble Grace’s.

**Are you a boy or a girl?**

****

**_Which do you want me to be?_ **

 

“Avoiding the question,” Maggie scoffs. “Typical pervert behaviour.”

 

“It is not,” Grace tries to grab the quill from Maggie’s hands but she’s quicker.

**Are you a pervert?**

 

“Maggie!” She looks in mortification at the parchment. Yes, she really wrote that down and there are no take-backs.

****

**_Would you like me to be?_ **

 

Grace just stares at the words with bulging eyes while Maggie snorts and quickly dips the quill in ink again and Grace herself is too baffled by this strange turn of events to stop her.

**You’re definitely a guy.**

 

“How can you be sure?” Grace softly asks.

 

“The way he talks,” She shrugs. “There’s no way there isn’t a conceited teenage boy on the other side of this parchment.”

****

**_Yes._ **

 

“Told you,” Maggie grins. “And I’ll tell you something else as well. This guy is flirting with you.”

 

Flirting? With her? Why?

 

Grace doesn’t think of herself as some kind of abomination but she’s not exactly the kind of girl to turn heads. Unlike her friend sitting next to her, her brown hair and brown eyes don’t make her stand out. Instead, she blends into a crowd or background perfectly. That’s how she’s always liked it. She feels that her strength is her brain, not her appearance. But mostly guys aren’t interested in brains. Ergo, not interested in her.

 

“He’s not,” She vigorously shakes her head because Maggie is so wrong about this.

 

“Yes, he is,” She insists. “He’s teasing you, asking you what you’d like him to be. That, my friend, is flirting.”

 

“He doesn’t even know I’m a girl.”

 

Grace thinks she makes a valid point here. Why the hell would this guy be flirting with anyone of who he doesn’t even know yet that they have his preferred gender for romantic pursuing? Perhaps this boy think she’s a guy? Does he want her to be?

 

“He must have figured it out,” She shrugs. “You have a pretty girly handwriting.”

 

Grace stares intently at her own handwriting. If she wrote in pink ink and dotted her I’s with hearts, then she would understand it but what’s girly about black lines? Her handwriting resembles that of her father anyway.

 

“I do not,” She scoffs.

 

“Why don’t you ask him?” Maggie hands her the quill back. “While you’re at it, flirt back a little.”

 

Her dorm member leaves her behind with a wink, doubting that even if she wanted to flirt back – and she’s not even sure that she does – how would she even do that? It’s not like she has much experience in the department.

 

As soon as she’s alone in her dorm again, she wishes Maggie would have stayed to advise her on how to continue, now that she’s aware of the person she’s been talking to being a conceited teenage guy, who may or may not be a pervert.

**Aren’t you going to ask me?**

 

Grace eventually plucked up enough courage to ask. She’s afraid this guy wants her to be a guy as well.

****

**_I know you’re a girl._ **

**How?**

****

**_You’d be the first guy I ever met who goes on and on about the inadequate toilet facilities in Hogwarts._ **

 

Her face flushes as that. She still can’t believe she went on a rant about that, all because Moaning Myrtle had managed to flood the toilets of at least three bathrooms she tried to visit that day. It’s also the day she told this, well, guy apparently, that she doesn’t understand why anyone would want to be a ghost and stay stuck in this world longer than they should. He, in turn, told her how it’s probably to be able to spook the poor living souls. That alone would be reason enough for him to want to be a haunting ghost.

 

He doesn’t often share her view on things but instead of that meaning they clash, it makes for very interesting conversation. Grace doesn’t mind that he’s very different from her. In fact, he makes her wish she could be more like him. He sounds bold.

 

*** 

 

Though Grace still doesn’t make a problem of the fact that she doesn’t know a lot about who this person she’s been talking to is, Maggie does. She insists that her friend should try to figure out who this person is. Since they know it’s a guy and he’s at Hogwarts, it shouldn’t be too hard. But Grace is a bit worried that the point will come where she no longer likes everything she finds out about him.

 

“Ask him what house he’s in,” Maggie interrupts the written conversation by pushing away the curtains around Grace’s bed, which she closed for a reason, and sits down next to her to read the conversation.

 

“Why?”

 

“Aren’t you curious? He could be someone you already know.”

 

Grace sincerely doubts that. The only guys she knows are the Ravenclaw boys from her year with the few exceptions of one year younger and one year older Ravenclaws. She doesn’t think he’s any of those guys. He seems to be too… different for that.

 

But she is curious. She wants to find out all kinds of things about this guy – once again, it’s in her nature – but she’s worried that if she asks him too many personal questions, he might bail on her, tell her stuff she doesn’t like or want her to return the favour.

**What house are you in?**

 

There. At Maggie’s insistence, she’s written the question down anyway and now they’re both sitting side by side, anxiously awaiting the answer. Grace thinks he might be a Hufflepuff because he seems to be very loyal to his friends. It hasn’t taken her long to figure out they’re incredibly important to him. Maggie thinks it would be freaking hilarious if he turned out to be a Slytherin. Grace wouldn’t care.

****

**_Can’t you guess?_ **

**I could try but I’d be wrong three times out of four.**

****

**_How about you get one guess and I’ll tell you honestly whether it’s true or false? But I get one guess as well then._ **

 

“One guess,” Maggie sighs. “He’s making this hard on purpose. So, which House will you be going for?”

 

“I was thinking Hufflepuff,” Grace admits. “He’s very loyal.”

 

“He’s also pretty arrogant,” Maggie snorts. “I would go for Gryffindor.”

 

“He’s pretty clever too, but in a sneaky kind of way.”

 

“Great, so he could also be a Slytherin or a Ravenclaw,” She sighs.

**Hufflepuff?**

 

Grace decides to stick to her first choice.

****

**_No._ **

 

“Damn it,” Maggie swears. “I really want to know who this guy is.”

 

Her friend might be even more curious about this person’s hidden identity than she is.

**Your turn.**

****

**_Ravenclaw._ **

 

“How did he know that?” Grace gasps at the correct guess written on the parchment.

 

“Well, you guys spend a lot of timing talking. Clearly, he’s paying attention,” Maggie shrugs before slipping out of Grace’s bed to get some sleep in her own.

**Does this mean you know me better than I know you?**

 

The idea that he knows her well, appeals to Grace but at the same time she feels a bit guilty for not being able to return the favour.

****

**_Does that mean I was correct?_ **

**Yeah. How did you know?**

****

**_You always throw in these little facts that nobody knows except apparently you. You sound like you put way too much effort into your school work and you never cease to surprise me with your quick wit and wise words. You have Ravenclaw written all over you. I mean, even your favourite colour is blue._ **

**So what’s yours?**

****

**_Purple_ **

 

“That doesn’t tell me anything,” Grace sighs before asking herself why she’s getting aggravated by it.

 

She wants to know who this person is, perhaps even talk to them in person, to see what his face looks like when he’s amused by her quick wit and wise words. She can’t even imagine what it’d look like since she knows nothing of his appearance. Is his hair blond or brown or black? His eyes grey, blue or green? Is he handsome?

 

‘No,’ She sternly says to herself. It doesn’t matter what he looks like, just like she hopes it wouldn’t matter to him what she looks like. But perhaps she would like to know some things.

**What’s your name?**

 

These past weeks she has been avoiding the question. Mostly because when he’d inevitably ask her for his – and she wouldn’t be able to refuse without coming off as a total hypocrite – his first reaction might be something along the lines of _‘Grace Clementine? That girl? Yikes, no thank you. I’m burning this parchment now. Grace Clementine, Ha! What a joke.’_

 

Okay, so he doesn’t come across as that rude a person and she knows it’s just her own insecurities ruling her actions but for some reason she has decided that today, she can’t possibly go any longer without knowing her friend’s name.

****

**_I thought we had a silent agreement not to get too personal._ **

 

See? Now, he’s mad because yes, they kind of did. Personal as in giving away details that tell the other person who they are. Not personal as in tell each other their private thoughts and opinions because they’ve been doing that for quite a while now.

**Yes, but I thought perhaps it would be nice to put a name to you instead of referring to you as the guy who writes on my parchment.**

****

**_Does that mean you’re going to tell me your name?_ **

 

God, no. Grace isn’t ready for that. Fears she’ll never be ready for that.

**You’re right. I don’t need to know your name.**

 

And in exchange, he doesn’t need to know hers. They can continue to be that person who writes on the parchment.

****

**_Padfoot_ **

**Sorry?**

****

**_You can call me Padfoot._ **

 

Her face splits open into a wide smile. Because she knows what Padfoot is. It’s not his name. Obviously. Just like Prongs wasn’t a name. It’s his nickname, which he told her at the very beginning was for inner circle only. Grace is inner circle. That makes her feel happy and giddy inside. At least it does until she realises she has no way to let him know how much she appreciates this and that he’s definitely in her circle as well.

**I’ve never had a nickname.**

****

**_Ever?_ **

**Well, my sister used to call me Dickie because I had a stuffed animal of a whale that I dragged everywhere with me.**

 

Why the hell did she just write that down?! Oh, crap! There’s no undoing that.

**Don’t call me Dickie though.**

 

She quickly scribbles down before he can say anything else.

****

**_Would you rather I call you whale?_ **

 

Oh, no! Padfoot is going to call her Whale now. That’s even worse! Much, much worse.

****

**_That was a joke._ **

 

He writes down when she can’t focus her thoughts enough to write a response. Her head is filled with the possibility that she’ll only be known to this guy as Dickie or Whale.

****

**_I would never call you that. I’m smart enough to know referring to a girl as a giant marine mammal, is not a good idea. I can’t imagine you would like that._ **

**Yeah**

 

Grace doesn’t know what else to say. With this conversation they’ve gotten quite close to her insecurities and especially the ones that make her doubt this Padfoot would ever look her way in real life.

****

**_So I don’t understand why she’d call you Dickie because of a stuffed whale._ **

 

Part of her is glad that he’s offering her this change of topic but it raises another issue. There’s quite the divide amongst wizarding kind these days, but truthfully always has been, concerning the bloodlines in wizards and witches. Purebloods believe that only people with ‘pure’ blood have the right to learn magic and be part of this world. Since the rise of a Dark Wizard named Voldemort, that issue has really escalated and there’s so much discrimination towards people who have Muggle blood. Kids whose parents are both Muggles are even being called Mudbloods by those purebloods.

 

Me and Padfoot have never really talked about where we fit in that controversy because such things are delicate. What if he is a pureblood? One who believes that I’m inferior to him because my mother’s a muggle and so was my father’s father? I don’t want to believe that he could be that small-minded but how could I know for sure? I don’t really know this person. Well, there’s only one way to find out.

**It’s a muggle reference.**

 

Grace stares intently at the parchment, hoping this is not their last conversation. Since he didn’t get the reference, Padfoot must be a pureblood or at least a wizard with both magical parents and who was raised knowing little of the Muggle world. Or an illiterate oaf. Please let him be an illiterate oaf.

****

**_That explains it._ **

 

That explains nothing!

**My mother is a muggle.**

****

**_Mine isn’t._ **

**You’re a pureblood?**

****

**_Yes._ **

 

It’s not like she wasn’t expecting that answer. But still, it cuts through her air supply and makes her eyes sting. Because this changes things. Dickie and Padfoot can’t be friends when one of them is inferior to the other.

****

**_Though I despise that word. Like I’m somehow purer, better than people like you. I don’t believe that I am. I’m not._ **

 

Her heart feels like it’s become ten times lighter since he wrote that down.

**You don’t?**

 

Grace can’t help smiling when she writes it.

****

**_I’m sure I’m better than you at some things. Like Quidditch. I don’t think there’s a female player on the Ravenclaw team. Or wizarding chess, though we’d have to have a match to be sure. I’m pretty damn good at it though. Point is, those things have nothing to do with my blood. I’m pure shit at Ancient Runes and I know you never get any less than an Exceeds Expectations on it. You can be quite boastful about it. Clearly, I’m also more humble than you._ **

 

The smile has spread out to a grin and she has to laugh out loud when she reads his words. It looks like Grace has stumbled upon one of his own insecurities as well. It seems that he wants to make it clear to her that he’s not a pureblood supremacist. He doesn’t want to be what his blood indicates him to be.

**I can play wizarding chess but not too well. As you claim to be damn good at it – and I’ll just believe your word on it since you’re so humble – let’s assume you’re better at it than I am. Moby Dick is a muggle book about a whale by the way.**

****

**_Sounds like a boring book. Can I call you Moby then?_ **

 

Being called after a whale still isn’t too great but it’s better than Whale or the hurtful Dickie Emily used to taunt her with.

**Sure**

****

**_Night, Moby._ **

**Night, Padfoot.**

 

***

 

“Have you figured him out yet?” Maggie asks her a couple of weeks later.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Who he is, dummie. Do you?”

 

“No.”

 

“Are you at least trying to collect clues?”

 

Not really. Grace doesn’t actually have any ulterior motive to talk to him other than liking their conversation. Maggie, however, thinks she should always try and figure out who this guy is. The guy is Padfoot though. The person who hates everyone who hates muggleborns and half-bloods such as herself. The person who preaches loyalty above all else although he’s no Hufflepuff. The person who loves Quidditch and tries to explain the ranking system of the teams in England even though Grace insists that she doesn’t need to know that. The person who stays up until 2 am to tell her all about his day. The person who makes her excited to pull out quill and parchment. The person who makes her laugh and listens to her on the days she feels like crying. The person she doesn’t want to even imagine going one day without talking to.

 

Padfoot has become a constant in her life and she fears trying to figure out what his real identity is might change that. Nothing is worth changing that for.

 

“I don’t need to know,” She insists to which Maggie rolls her eyes.

 

“Don’t you want to be able to talk to him in person, laugh out loud with another person for a change instead of it being this unspoken thing that’s only real in our dorm?”

 

Maggie had been saying things like this a lot lately. It’s been three months now since she and Padfoot have started talking and while her friend had been supportive at first, she’s starting to push Grace into a direction that will surely only end in disappointment. Grace is starting to worry that Padfoot is handsome. He sounds handsome, if anyone can sound that way through written conversations. But he does. He knows how to talk to girls and none of his insecurities are about his appearance. And Grace is the exact opposite of that. How could she possibly meet him in person if he might be disappointed at what he finds?

****

**_You mentioned you had a sister?_ **

 

A question like that is bordering on too personal and normally Grace would have quickly changed the subject. But after all this time, she doesn’t mind confiding to him about the source of so many insecurities: Emily Clementine.

**Yes, she’s three years older than me.**

****

**_Are you two close?_ **

 

She snorts. Obviously not. She doesn’t get how anyone can be close to their older sister. Aren’t older siblings designed to make the younger ones feel inferior?

**No.**

****

**_Would you like to be?_ **

 

What a strange question. One she’s never really asked herself. Would she like to be close to Emily? It’s impossible for her to be though. Emily is beautiful and dependable and smart and impressive in everything she does. Grace is smart as well, that she knows, but not as smart as Emily. And she’s definitely none of those other things.

 

But Padfoot’s question wasn’t whether or not such a thing was in the cards. He asked if she wanted to.

 

Maggie’s little sister is in fourth year so two years younger than her older sister. However, there is no malice in Anna’s tone or eyes when she talks to Maggie. Grace’s friend often tells her of how she and her sister sleep in the same bed sometimes to gossip with one another and confide their secret crushes and such. Maggie helps Anna with her homework when it’s asked and Anna picks out Maggie’s outfit when she has a date to Hogsmeade. They sit together in the common room once a week even though Anna is in Hufflepuff. Maggie knows the way to her common room as well. They laugh together and paint their nails together and read their parents’ letters together. Maggie and Anna are close.

**Yes**

 

Grace writes down truthfully.

**I wouldn’t know how though. She’s not very…**

 

Very what? Nice? It sounds terrible to write that down about your own sister. Open to people who she considers inferior to her? That sounds even worse.

****

**_Yeah_ **

 

Grace didn’t write down what Emily isn’t like but somehow Padfoot gets what she was trying to say. How could he?

**Do you have any siblings?**

 

She remembers him asking that once before and her question had been met with silence. She doesn’t want to make him that uncomfortable again. Just as she’s about to write down to drop it, his writing has resumed.

****

**_I have a younger brother. He’s not very…_ **

**Yeah**

 

She gets what he’s trying to say just the way he gets what she was trying to say. Sibling bonds are complicated. Sometimes they’re great like they are for Maggie and Anna but sometimes they are a burden and make everything complicated because who gives up on their sister or brother? Sometimes Moby and Padfoot want to.

****

**_He has different believes._ **

 

Though Grace didn’t ask for clarification, clearly this was something he wanted to share with her and she knows what he means. Padfoot is a pureblood but one that doesn’t care about blood status and making people feel inferior to him. Padfoot’s brother does. Padfoot hates everyone who hates  Muggles. But is it okay to hate your own brother?

**I’m sorry. That sounds a lot more complicated than having a sister who’s just so much better at everything than I am.**

****

**_Why are you sorry?_ **

**Because I don’t like to think of you in pain.**

 

She doesn’t. Not at all. And there’s something about the way he writes this down and especially about how silent he was last time she asked him about this that tells her this is something that brings him pain. And she can’t stand the very thought.

 

For the first time since she’s met Padfoot, she wishes she could really meet him. So that she can wrap her arms around him and tell him everything will be alright. It could be a total lie but she would like to give him whatever comfort she can. And that’s a lot easier to do in person than it is through written words.

****

**_Thank you._ **

 

He writes it down as if he’s not often had anyone sympathise for his pain. She wishes she could kiss him as well as hug him.

 

She goes to bed, wondering if it’s possible to love someone you’ve never even met before.

 

*** 

 

“I want to know who he is.” Grace tells Maggie the next day at breakfast.

 

She thought about it all night and she finally gets what Maggie had been trying to tell her. How much better it would be if she could look at his face when she confides in him about her sister and hold him when he tells her of his brother. How much she would love to look at his eyes light up when he talks about his day, his friends, the Quidditch cup. She’s very frightened that he might not want that, won’t let her have that but her heart is threatening to jump out of her chest if she denies herself that small possibility by not even trying.

 

“Finally!” Maggie smiles but Grace only manages a small grimace.

 

They spend their free period together, trying to figure out everything they know about Padfoot, hoping to find his true identity through elimination.

 

“Okay, so we know he’s a guy,” Maggie writes that down on an empty sheet of parchment that’s definitely not the Two-way parchment.

 

“He’s a seventh or sixth year since he’s talked about NEWT classes,” Grace says while her friend pens it down.

 

“He’s not in Hufflepuff.”

 

“He’s a pureblood.”

 

“Really?” Maggie glances at a group of seventh year Slytherins in the Library.

 

“I don’t think so,” Grace shakes her head. “He doesn’t care that I’m a half-blood.”

 

“That definitely eliminates the entire House. So he has to be a Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, right?”

 

“I don’t think he’s in Ravenclaw actually. He told me he thinks there aren’t any girls on the Ravenclaw Quidditch team. I know he’s on the team himself so if he was a Ravenclaw, he would have known that for a certainty.”

 

“You know what that means, right?” Maggie looks at her. “We’re looking for a Gryffindor.”

 

“I guess we are.”

 

That leaves roughly ten guys in the running, combining the seventh and sixth year Gryffindors. How many of them would be purebloods on the Quidditch team though?

 

There’s another reason she’s asked Maggie’s help on this. The girl knows everyone in the school. With these clues, she’ll have figured out who Padfoot is in no time. The fact that she’s put down her quill and looks at Grace with such a serious expression tells her she’s already come to a conclusion.

 

“Grace,” She says softly. “That only leaves two options.”

 

She’s not telling her. Maybe to give her the chance to change her mind. Does she really want to know? Once she does, she can’t go back to pretending she and Padfoot are two strangers with a chance meeting. Because she’ll know who it is and that will change everything.

 

“Who?” She whispers anyway.

 

“James Potter and Sirius Black.”

 

What? There’s no way Padfoot is either one of them. Both Gryffindors are ridiculously handsome and popular and why would either of them spend their time writing to some girl they’ve never met when people are always flocking around them?

 

Besides, they're loud and arrogant and she's seen them pick on other students. Mainly Slytherins but that doesn't make it any better. Neither of them can be Padfoot. He's kind and gentle and considerate. Everything she knows about the kind of person he is, does not add up to Sirius Black or James Potter.

 

"Are you sure?" She frowns, hoping against hope that Maggie's forgotten about some gentle soul in her elimination.

 

"Positive."

 

"It can't be. He's not- He…"

 

But Maggie looks pretty sure about the whole thing. Padfoot is in fact one of these boys. Those are her options? The immature Quidditch Captain who's notoriously smitten with a girl he's chased after for half a decade. Or the ridiculously handsome Beater who's almost just as famous for the dazzling number of broken hearts he's left in his wake as he is for tormenting Slytherins. Some options.

 

"You seem... disappointed," Maggie says tentatively. "They're both hot. But also charming and kind of clever."

 

Grace knows they have a certain appeal but neither of them quite feels like Padfoot. Sure, they're bold and attractive but Padfoot was so much more than that. He was attentive to her feelings and her thoughts. He was funny with some spunk without being an asshole about it. He was witty, without making her feel inadequate. He made her feel like he wanted to spend time with her, more than whatever else was going on in his life. He spoke passionate about the things he loved without turning their conversations into a monologue.

 

God, Grace thinks about him like he's dead. But somehow, that's kind of what it feels like. The veil of mystery has been lifted and what she found underneath is not at all the person she thought she was pouring her heart out to. Someone who understood insecurities and that awful feeling in your gut of inferiority, justified or not, without letting it rule them. She learned so much from him. She needed him and there's no way Potter or Black would need her back the same way.

 

And she loved Padfoot. Despite his appearance, despite whoever he might have been or things that he may have done in the past. Now, it turns out that she's fallen in love with either a womanizer or a guy who already lost his heart to someone else.

 

"We can still figure it out, you know," Maggie tries to cheer her up. She's certain she looks absolutely miserable right now. "Even though they're best friends, there are differences between them. We could-"

 

"That's okay. I know enough."

 

She knows now that Padfoot was only real to her. He might have been written down in Potter's or Black's handwriting but the guy she thought he was, was entirely of her own making. She didn't want to see a flaw in him, an inconsistency. She wanted him to be the kind of guy she could rely on. It's neither of the Gryffindors’ fault that she likes the fantasy more than reality.

 

"Oh, Grace," Maggie looks at her with pity in her eyes. "I thought this would help. I thou-"

 

"It did. Now I know," She nods before gathering her things and leaving the library, feeling a lot emptier than she had for the past couple of months.

 

***

 

_**So what kind of wicked things have you been up to today?** _

 

Padfoot writes to her, just like he does every evening but unlike before, Grace has no desire to answer him. It's not fair, she's knows it isn't. But she also knows that Padfoot would be equally disappointed by the revelation that Moby is actually plain, boring Grace Clementine. She realises that even if Padfoot had turned out to be a bloody prince, she would still have been disappointed. Because a real life person just can't possibly compare to the image she had in her mind.

 

She doesn't write an answer, she doesn't ever want to talk to him again. The fact that she knows who it might be, makes it real and this is no longer a lovely little chat. She can't possibly enjoy it now. So, she stuffs the parchment at the bottom of her trunk, never to look at it again.


	2. Sirius Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A part of her still really wants to talk to Padfoot a.k.a. Sirius Black or James Potter. She misses him. She misses their daily conversations, misses the way she feels when she's talking to him, the way a suspicious warmth spreads through her when she can tell by the way he writes that she made him laugh. Some days she really wants to grab the parchment and go back to telling him all about her day but she knows it won't lead up to anything with Potter or Black being at the other end of the line.

Two weeks pass without Grace daring to open up her trunk. She doesn't want to talk to Black or Potter but she's also curious as to whether he's still writing to her or has given up a long time ago and spends his time on better things now. She's can't go and check because as soon as she does, the disappearing words on his end will let him know that she's read them.

 

That doesn't stop her eyes from automatically searching for both seventh year boys in the Great Hall at breakfast, lunch and dinner. It's weird how a presence on another House's table can ruin her day before it has even properly set out. It started with quick, subtle glances in their direction every once in a while. She didn't want to be too obvious about staring at them. Until she noticed she was nowhere near the only girl looking at them. Both boys are just so used to people staring at them, they don't notice it anymore. There's something very wrong about that. However, it does make it easier for Grace to keep an eye on the potential Padfoot and Prongs.

 

She knows that the other one has to be Prongs. The best friend who's more like a brother than anything else, the one Padfoot would do anything for. That's exactly how James Potter and Sirius Black are with each other. Perfectly in tune, get each other with just a glance in their direction and fiercely loyal. Then again, they're also loyal to Remus Lupin and Petter Pettigrew who Grace has come to know as Moony and Wormtail. Judging by Padfoot's description of his studious friend who's secretly a pranking mastermind, Moony must be Remus Lupin. Leaving Pettigrew to take up the role of Wormtail, the friend with the most unfortunate nickname of them all.

 

It's weird to see the people she had only known through Padfoot's stories before, interact with one another in real life now. There's this very annoying ache in her chest when she realises she'll never get to talk to any of them, never be introduced to them by Padfoot, never get to see if they're really as bloody hilarious as he claimed them to be.

 

"Why don't you talk to them?" Maggie asks her whenever she's caught her staring at the Gryffindor table so she's taken to only doing it when her friend is occupied with other stuff.

 

"I can't," She shakes her head.

 

She wants to. A part of her still really wants to talk to Padfoot a.k.a. Sirius Black or James Potter. She misses him. She misses their daily conversations, misses the way she feels when she's talking to him, the way a suspicious warmth spreads through her when she can tell by the way he writes that she made him laugh. Some days she really wants to grab the parchment and go back to telling him all about her day but she knows it won't lead up to anything with Potter or Black being at the other end of the line.

 

***

 

"I have big news," Maggie throws herself on the other end of the couch Grace had been reading her book on. Now that she no longer talks to Padfoot every night, she's had a lot of  time for reading.

 

"What is it?"

 

"I heard from Kathy Hemmerstone - you know her, right?”

 

Grace nods.

 

Kathy Hemmerstone is a seventh year Ravenclaw who's been made Head Girl this year. While she's absolutely relentless when it comes to punish those breaking rules, she's pretty nice and well-liked amongst her peers. Didn't know she liked to gossip about them as well though.

 

"Well, she told me that a certain Gryffindor has been hanging out a lot with Ravenclaws lately, going on and on about Moby Dick."

 

Padfoot.

 

He's asking Ravenclaws about the Muggle book she mentioned to him? Why? Better yet, who?

 

"Wh-which one?" She asks softly.

 

She doesn't know whether Padfoot is James Potter or Sirius Black since she doesn’t know enough about their families to come to any kind of conclusion. She told Maggie she didn't need to know. But the truth is, she does kind of want to. It'd be nice to know whose face she's supposed to imagine when she thinks of him.

 

"Sirius Black," She beams. "So of course none of the Ravenclaw girls are really objecting to his presence since he's damn fi- oh, sorry. You don't want to hear that, do you?"

 

But she doesn't care if the girls practically drool all over him when he's talking gibberish about a book she knows he's never read. Sirius Black is Padfoot. Her very unusual friend is the Hogwarts heartthrob. God, she couldn't have imagined anyone less fitting to be the object of her affections. But he is, because Padfoot is Sirius Black. Just like half of the girls in this castle, she's fallen for the handsome pureblood with features that seem to be sculpted out of marble. She is such a cliché.

 

"Sirius Black," She whispers, tasting the name on her lips. Is it weird that she preferred Padfoot?

 

"I thought you'd be happy, we solved the mystery. But - ah," Maggie wavers. "You didn't really want to know, did you?"

 

"No, I did," She admits honestly.

 

She likes that she knows who it is, that she knows which of them is Padfoot and which one is Prongs. That Prongs is the one with a sweet tooth that puts Honeydukes to shame, that Padfoot is the one who likes to start his day with pitch black coffee. James Potter is the person who thought releasing a bludger in his house was a good idea and Sirius Black is the one who bought himself a motorcycle over the summer.

 

"You do know what this means, right?" Maggie smiles at her.

 

"Euhm..."

 

She knows what it means for her. Some kind of validation that Padfoot was real, at least for a small portion. But why would that matter to Maggie?

 

"He's looking for you. Why else would he be dropping those hints around Ravenclaws? He wants to find you."

 

"Find me?" She gapes at her. "Why?"

 

"Same reason you wanted to know who he was," She shrugs. "He might want to know who the one girl is that blew him off."

 

"Blew him off?" Grace frown. "I did nothing of the sort."

 

"You kind of did, when you suddenly stopped talking to him. Pretty sure no girl has ever done that, at least not for no apparent reason."

 

"But I have a reason."

 

"Yeah, a pretty bad one though."

 

Maggie has made it clear that she thinks Grace is being stupid. She thinks she should just suck it up, tell Sirius Black she loves him and suck face with him. If only it was that simple.

 

"Besides, he doesn't even know why you stopped writing him. He might be worried as to why that is. Kathy told me he even asked her if there was any Ravenclaw girl admitted to the Hospital Wing , or if any of them had temporarily lost the ability to read and write."

 

He's worried... about her? Why? They've only been talking for a while. She's nothing to him. Right? But then why would he try and find her?

 

Despite her insistence that she doesn't want anything to do with Padfoot now that he's turned out to be Sirius Black, she can't help the smile that spreads over her face when Maggie tells her he's worried about her.

 

"Let's be honest," Maggie continues. "You want to talk to him, he clearly wants to talk to you as well. So just go up to him,"

 

"Go to him?!"

 

The very idea makes her nauseous. What would she do? What would she say? How could she hide from his disappointing gaze? _Angry_ gaze?

 

"Yep," Maggie smiles. "Just go up to him and say 'I'm the Moby to your Dick’."

 

"W-what?!" She sputters.

 

There's no way she could say that! It would be a miracle if she could even greet the guy. Though she has no intention to do so.

 

"Just kidding," She laughs. "But you could just go and tell him who you are."

 

"It's not that simple," She sighs.

 

"It is. You're just making this unnecessarily hard."

 

"I don't want him to be..."

 

"What?"

 

"Disappointed."

 

Maggie's eyes widen before softening in that maternal expression she mastered ages ago.

 

“Gracie, why would he be disappointed?”

 

“Have you seen him? Have you seen me? What kind of a terrible combination would that be?”

 

It already doesn’t help that she knows she has fairly little to offer in the looks department. Compare that to Sirius Black’s out-of-this-world’s appearance and that’s a recipe for a joke.

 

“You put too much importance on looks, Grace.”

 

“Well, at least that’s one thing he and I have in common,” She sighs.

 

“You may know Padfoot but you don’t know Sirius Black. You shouldn’t presume to know what he would think and give him the chance to surprise you.”

 

Giving him that chance means also giving him the opportunity to crush her and she’s pretty sure she wouldn’t survive that. She knows Maggie’s making sense and she wishes she could be the person to give Sirius Black / Padfoot the benefit of the doubt but there’s a reason she’s Ravenclaw and not Gryffindor. She doesn’t want to take a risk like that.

 

 ***

 

With no longer writing to Padfoot, you’d think that leaves Grace to finish her homework in record time but somehow she’s managed to end up on a Thursday night in the library, slaving over a Potions essay that’s due tomorrow. She’s still got a half hour until Madame Pince will forcefully throw her out but it looks like she’ll make her deadline. Luckily, she’s not the only one left. A surprise Charms essay has left many seventh years slaving over their own home work as well. Kathy came to complain about it to her earlier.

 

Grace is just penning down the conclusion, when she hears someone approach her table. Assuming it’s Kathy who had looked absolutely lost and all over the place looking for a book she just couldn’t manage to locate, she answers without looking up.

 

“I saw that book you were looking for on Madam Pince’s desk. I highly suspect her to be boycotting your entire class.”

 

“Euhm… thanks?”

 

The voice answering her most definitely does not belong to Katy Hemmerstone. Grace doesn’t remember hers sounding so gruff and deep and manly. She’s almost afraid to look up but considering this person engaged in conversation with her, she’s forced to do so anyway.

 

Watching him from afar does not do justice to the magnetic presence that is all Sirius Black. Up close he seems to be even more handsome than Grace already knew him to be. His smooth black hair falls casually in his face as though he woke up like this. She knows for a fact that he did not. He told her himself that he loves his hair and spends probably way too much time on it in the mornings. That kind of should have told her it couldn’t be James Potter with his wild, out of control mop of curls.

 

Grey. Padfoot’s eyes are definitely grey. She had always wondered. That’s something you can’t see too well from across the Great Hall.

 

Admiring her crush up close for the first time, has given her a temporary brain-fry and it leaves her staring at him with what she can only assume is a dumb expression on her face. Yep, he definitely doesn’t look equally intimidated. She silently curses herself for wearing her oversized woollen jumper to the Library. Of course, she didn’t know he’d be here and definitely not that he’d actually talk to her.

 

Crap, he’s talking to her, right?  

 

“S-sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

 

He just looks at her, not even shrugging or nodding. Any indication that he’s heard her. He just stares, like he’s trying to take all of her into his memory before fumbling with a piece of paper.

 

“Grace Clementine?”

 

Is he reading her name off a cheat sheet?

 

“Yes?”

 

“You’re in Ravenclaw, right?”

 

“Yes…”

 

“Sixth year?”

 

“Indeed.”

 

Is this going anywhere?

 

“I… euhm… I realise that this might be a little weird…. Just bear with me, okay?”

 

Is it all in her head or does Sirius Black, teenage dream extraordinaire, sound a bit nervous? She wasn’t aware he could experience the very human emotion.

 

“Alright…”

 

“Is your mother a muggle?”

 

“Why woul-“

 

“Black!” A shrill voice stops her from having to answer the unusual question.

 

Grace has never been happier to see Lily Evans and Kathy Hemmerstone in the same room together. Normally the two dominating girls are too much to take on as a combined force but since their glares at Sirius Black is the reason Grace no longer has to participate in this strange and awkward conversation, she’ll take their presence over his gladly.

 

“I told you to stop harassing my House members,” Kathy narrows her eyes at him.

 

“And I reminded you of that as well, right?” Evans is equally scary. Grace doesn’t understand why Black is completely unfazed by it.

 

“I’m sorry, Grace,” Kathy turns her gaze to her, the look in her eyes immediately softening. “I told him to leave you alone but he just won’t listen.”

 

“That’s okay?”

 

“I just wanted to ask her a couple of simple questions,” Sirius Black rolls his eyes at the two other girls but they quickly land back on Grace.

 

“I know what you wanted to ask. Is any member of your family a muggle? Do you have a sister? Do you like wizarding chess? What is Moby Dick? You’ve asked all the Ravenclaw girls in our year and one below. Don’t you think you’ve spend enough time bugging us? You never seem to like anyone’s answers anyway.”

 

“I’m looking for someone,” He grumbles.

 

“Sirius,” Evans sighs, not at all looking as irritated as before. “This is not the way. All it does is scare off the Ravenclaw girls. We’ll figure something else out, alright?”

 

He looks like figuring out a different approach to his dilemma is not at all what he wants to do. His eyes shift between Evans and Grace a couple of times, with a strange desperation in them that Grace is startled to see so much of Padfoot in Sirius Black. She always thought his looks and arrogance didn’t quite match with the guy she thought she knew but the eyes… Intriguing, deep, with a silent storm raging in them that has so many emotions flitting through them, she can’t possibly identify them all. His piercing grey eyes look more like Padfoot than even his writing did. And Grace feels a slight ache in her chest when she recognises the primary emotions in his eyes to be sadness and unfulfilled longing. Why does he look so sad? Padfoot is supposed to be all smiles and happiness, at least that’s how Grace likes to look back on him.

 

Sirius Black eventually shrugs and leaves the Library with Evans in tow. He’s already far gone by the time Grace notices the piece of parchment he dropped on the floor, the one he had been fumbling with when he arrived at her corner. Grace picks it up and unfolds it while Kathy apologises once again for Black’s behaviour she had apparently been trying to call a halt to.

__

_~~Kathy Hemmerstone~~ _

__

_~~Georgina Lockhart~~ _

__

_~~Joanne Merrin~~ _

__

_~~Patricia Cole~~ _

_Heather Bummelbridge_

__

_~~Ruth Lianni~~ _

_Maggie Broker_

_Carole Wicker_

_Grace Clementine_

__

_~~Helen Quirrell~~ _

__

_~~Tracy Whittlespur~~ _

 

Grace is surprised, even though Maggie would probably tell her she shouldn’t have been, to find a list of girl names written down on the piece of parchment. The list of the seventh and sixth year Ravenclaw girls. Potential candidates for Moby.

 

He’s looking for Moby.

 

Sirius Black is really looking for _her_.

 

Part of her wonders why, will always wonder why, but she can still admit that him putting so much effort into finding his pen pal who’s been refusing to talk to him for three weeks, makes her smile.

 

He wants to find her. And he doesn’t seem to be so appalled by the possibility of it being her that he automatically crossed out her name. That has to count for something, right?

 

“Grace?”

 

She tears her eyes away from the list that she’s tightly holding to her chest and that’s when she realises Kathy is still here, watching her cling to the parchment as though it’s a life line.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Are you okay? I know Black can come on a bit strongly, but I’m sure it wasn’t his intention to upset you.”

 

“I’m not upset,” She shakes her head. “I’m just going to have to finish my essay in the common room now.”

 

Writing that essay is the last thing on her mind right now. Kathy takes the excuse and leaves her be though. Grace quickly pens down a lousy conclusion – screw it, she’s got an average of Outstanding in the class anyway – and quickly collects her things to return to the Ravenclaw tower. To do what she should have done three weeks ago: write to Padfoot.

 

*** 

 

Even though some of her dorm members are already sleeping, she casts a lumos when she’s settled down on her own bed, hoping her drapes will keep the light in. She’s nervous to see what Padfoot has written to her in her absence, if he’s written to her at all but since he seems to be going to extreme lengths to find her, she’s pretty sure that he has.

 

What she finds on the two-way parchment isn’t a few quickly scribbled down lines. Instead, it has been written completely full. In the margins, squeezed between two other lines, until there are no blank spaces left.

****

**_Did you fall asleep? It’s not like you to not write back._ **

****

**_Hey, is everything alright? You haven’t written to me in almost a day now._ **

****

**_I’m officially worried. If something happened that you don’t want to talk about, you don’t have to. Just let me know you’re still there?_ **

****

**_What’s wrong?_ **

****

**_You know you can talk to me, right?_ **

****

**_Moby?_ **

****

**_You haven’t written to me in three days. I’d worry you’re lying somewhere in a ditch but I didn’t hear any Ravenclaw dying, or being in the Hospital Wing or having lost their eyesight so they can’t read, or gotten a hand cut off, not being able to write ever again. Since none of the above have happened, I can only come to the conclusion that you are ignoring me._ **

****

**_Are you ignoring me?_ **

****

**_Did I say or do something to upset you?_ **

****

**_Have I ever mentioned before that sometimes I can be a dick? Without actually intending to be one? It has happened before that I say or do something that upsets someone, without me realising it. Sometimes, I need someone else to point that out to me. Point it out to me?_ **

****

**_I had a shitty day today, by the way. The kind I would talk to you about, if you were still talking to me, which obviously you’re not. Prongs just isn’t that well a listener._ **

****

**_I wish you would talk to me._ **

****

**_Or at least let me know the reason you’re not._ **

****

**_All my lines are still on the parchment so I know you’re not reading any of this. Still, this is the closest I can get to a conversation with you now._ **

****

**_Maybe you lost the two-way parchment?_ **

****

**_To whoever finds this paper, please return it to the girl who lost it._ **

****

**_Write back to me._ **

****

**_Quidditch practice sucked today. I can’t focus._ **

****

**_What’s your take on wizarding music? Personally, I think most of it is rubbish with the occasional rare gem. I prefer muggle rock actually. The Rolling Stones, Talking Heads, The Police, AC/DC. If you don’t know them, look them up._ **

****

**_I just realised I told a witch with a Muggle inheritance that she should look up famous Muggle artists. Ignore that._ **

****

**_How’s your Herbology? I suck at it. I could use some help._ **

****

**_So what was your day like?_ **

****

**_It’s been four months since we started talking and eleven days since you stopped. Just in case you were wondering._ **

****

**_Remember at the beginning, when I wouldn’t talk to you? You kept pestering me with questions and random facts for two weeks. I thought I’d try the same approach. Clearly, it’s not as adorable on me._ **

****

**_Did you ever find out what a prung was?_ **

****

**_I miss talking to you. Didn’t think I’d ever admit that but I do._ **

****

**_Did you ever think about meeting me? Because I did. I just never brought it up. I can’t remember why. At least I’d be able to stalk you into talking to me again then. Now I’m just fucked._ **

****

**_I have to admit, a part of me hoped you’d ignore me for the two weeks I ignored you at first, as some kind of payback. But this is day fifteen and you’re still not reading this._ **

****

**_Talk to me. Please._ **

****

**_Don’t you think I at least deserve some kind of explanation for your silence?_ **

****

**_I demand you explain yourself to me._ **

****

**_If you won’t talk to me, I’ll talk to you. But not like this. This is like screaming into the void. I’ve done that more than enough times to know it never amounts to anything. I’m going to talk to you in person._ **

****

**_I’m going to find out who you are._ **

****

**_You’re obviously not reading this but I’m telling you anyway. I know you’re in Ravenclaw and I know you’re a sixth or seventh year. Moony helped me come up with a list of all the Ravenclaw girls in those years because he’s better with names and faces and such. I have eleven names and one of them is yours. You’ve never seemed more real._ **

****

**_This is a note to self, more than it is to you: Girls get annoyed when I ask them about their mother’s blood status._ **

****

**_Two down, eight more to go._ **

****

**_I talked to Joanne Merrin today. She’s muggleborn so that makes her mother a muggle. I don’t remember if you told me that your dad was a wizard. I don’t think you did, so Joanne is still in the running to be you. She’s pretty beautiful. I wanted to tell you that, in case she’s you. I’d be happy if she’s you. If not… then fuck it, she’s not you._ **

****

**_I’ve cornered several girls now, all of them probably never talking to me again now that I’ve asked them about sisters, whales and using those two in the same sentence has proven to upset some people._ **

****

**_Four girls left. I’m getting close._ **

****

**_I wish this wasn’t the way to meet. I wanted you to want it too._ **

 

He wrote to her forty times in three weeks. And judging by the list she found in the Library, he’s still writing to her. And he’s looking for her. Wants to talk and meet her. And she does want it too. She’s terrified of meeting him but she does want to.

 

It wasn’t fair of her to just cut him off out of fear for rejection. So now, on top of introducing herself to him as Moby, she also has to beg his forgiveness for her cowardice. As a Gryffindor, she’s not sure he’d easily give her that. But at the same time, she saw the look in his eyes. At this point he might not give a shit about who she is, he just needs to know. Relieving him from that burden falls upon her and how can she not do that after seeing how exhausted he is, after reading his desperation for any kind of response.

 

She fully intends to write to him but after three weeks of nothing, her words need to be pretty spectacular. So as she lies on her bed, trying to come up with the right ones, she drifts into sleep.

 

*** 

 

**_You read it. I guess, I still kind of thought that maybe you’d lost the parchment. But at least now I know you’re still alive. Silent, but alive._ **

 

The words are angry and it makes her even more scared to break the silence on her end. But if she doesn’t, that anger might just turn into bitterness and Grace does not want that on her consciousness. So instead of writing down some feeble excuse that might not come across as sincere as she feels it, she puts away the parchment, gets up and leaves the dorm with the intent to reveal her identity to Sirius Black in person.

 

Finding Padfoot was way easier than she thought it would be. She had hoped she’s have to search a few floors, getting the opportunity to tell herself she could do it, so many times that she’d actually start believing it herself. Instead, he’s the first thing she sees when she walks into the Great Hall.

 

Okay, she has to do it now. If not, she’ll chicken out and for him, she really wants to try.

 

So in a surge of uncharacteristic bravery, she walks past her friends at the Ravenclaw table and walks up to the Gryffindor’s side of the Great Hall to stand right in front of Sirius Black and his three closest friends.

 

“Euhm…”

 

What was it again she was going to say?

 

The four of them look up once they hear her attempt to talk to them. Since she doesn’t know any one of them, that they’re aware of, she can’t blame them for looking at her with surprise. Even Sirius is staring at her, confused as to why she’s addressing them even though he did the exact same thing yesterday to her, and at least six other Ravenclaw girls.

 

“Hi,” She squeaks out.  “I’m just… euhm… hoping…. talking… maybe… you could?”

 

God, that’s terrible. It would have been alright if she hadn’t said what she intended to but that’s not even a sentence!

 

“Yeah?” James Potter raises a bored eyebrow at her, clearly not patient enough in the morning to deal with Grace’s awkwardness.

 

“I’m looking  for…”

 

A way to tell your best friend I’m the one he’s been talking to all this time.

 

But instead she’s lost and if she ever had the courage to tell him the truth, it’s long gone by now. Crap, she still has to end that sentence, right? She can’t tell them she was looking for the salt, there are a dozen salt shakers on each table. A person perhaps? Except that anyone you’d ask those four about, are sitting right there. Except…

 

“I was hoping you could tell me where to find Lily Evans?”

 

Full sentence. Nailed it.

 

“Why?” James Potter asks.

 

Why? That’s a good question.

 

“Prefect stuff.”

 

That would make total sense since Lily Evans is the seventh year Gryffindor prefect and helps out Kathy a lot with the organisation of prefect duties and meetings and all that stuff that takes up a big portion of Kathy’s time. Total sense. If only Grace was a prefect too.

 

“Haven’t seen her,” Potter shrugs and returns to his breakfast.

 

Thank God, they don’t know that.

 

“Thanks,” She mutters before getting out of there as fast as she can, sitting down next to Maggie with a pitiful whine.

 

“What was that all about?” The blond looks at her with a slightly amused, slightly confused smile on her lips.

 

“I tried to tell him,” Grace admits.

 

“Really? How did that go?”

 

“Obviously not well,” She sighs. “I chickened out and I just made a fool out of myself.”

 

“Better luck next time,” Maggie smiles. “At least you’ve wizened up about the whole thing.”

 

Next time? Oh man, she’s going to have to try again, doesn’t she?

 

*** 

 

“Grace Clementine?”

 

She looks up when she hears her name called by an unfamiliar voice on her way to Charms. Lily Evans is standing right behind her, looking at Grace expectantly.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Potter told me you were looking for me.”

 

Oh. He was not supposed to tell her that. Maybe he didn’t know Grace wasn’t a prefect but Evans would know for sure.

 

“Euhm… yeah.”

 

“He said something about prefect duties, which is weird because you’re not a Prefect.” She narrows her eyes in suspicion.

 

See? She’s smart.

 

“I wanted to tell you that Kathy was looking for you.”

 

That sounds believable.

 

“Oh, okay. I guess I’ll go find her then.”

 

“Wait!” Grace calls out to the red-head when she’s about to walk away.

 

She just had an idea. Which requires minimal courage on her end and is without the possibility of chickening out. Sounds perfect.

 

Lily Evans looks at her impatiently as she opens her bag and quickly rummages through it to pull out the two-way paper and hand it over to the seventh year girl.

 

“Would you please give this to Sirius Black?”

 

He’ll recognise it for what it is and then it will be his decision to talk to her yes or no. If it’s no, they can both pretend like none of it ever happened and at least she did what he originally wanted: to give the parchment back.

 

“Do I look like I’m the deliverer of Black’s mail? If you want to give him a love note, do it yourself,” She sighs, indicating that this is not the first time someone asked her to pass things along to Sirius Black. That makes Grace’s stomach twist a bit.

 

“It’s nothing like that. See, there’s nothing written on it,” She shows the blank parchment to Evans but instead of it making her more agreeable, she seems to be getting only more irritated.

 

“Why should I hand him an empty piece of parchment?” She frowns.

 

“I know it’s a bit weird but could you please just do this for me? Please?”

 

The girl gives Grace an exasperated look but eventually accepts the parchment anyway. And now, all there’s left to do is wait.

 

***

 

She doesn’t know what she expected. Maybe something like Sirius Black coming up to her, telling her he knows she’s Moby and is happy about that. Perhaps it was more of a hope than it was a possibility. But at the very least she still expected to see some kind of reaction in him, even if he never spoke to her. That’s not why she gave back the parchment anyway. That was for him but she also kind of hoped that maybe he’d want to talk to her. That’s what he said he wanted, right?

 

Except that the next day, he is sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall like he always is, never once glancing in her direction. If Evans gave him the parchment and he inevitably recognised it for what it is, he must know it’s her. But he’s not looking any different and he’s definitely not looking at her. Did he not figure it out? Or did Evans not give him the parchment?

 

“You’re staring again.”

 

Grace looks at her right side where Maggie has taken a seat. She told her about what she did last night. Maggie said it would all work out in the end but it certainly isn’t looking like that right now.

 

“Why wouldn’t he say something? Or at least stare back? Even if he doesn’t want to talk to me.”

 

“Maybe he doesn’t know yet,” She simply shrugs.

 

“Lily Evans isn’t the kind of person to not do something she said she’d do. At least, I think she’s not…”

 

“She might not have had the chance yet.”

 

“Maybe,” Grace admits. “Oh, I really wish I hadn’t done that. Now, I’m just waiting for him to finally do something and if he decides not to, I’ll be waiting forever.”

 

That does not sound like a happy prospect.

 

“Or you could just stop waiting and tell him in person, that way you don’t have to rely on Lily Evan’s timing.”

 

“Yeah,” She nod. “I can wait.”

 

*** 

 

Five hours and a half later, as she and Maggie make their way from the Herbology greenhouse to the Charms classroom, Maggie asks her why she wouldn’t just go up to Sirius Black and try to tell him again. Maggie even offers to do it herself, to help her friend out.

 

“That’s really nice of you,” Grace smiles warmly at her. “I’ve already tried and I know I can’t do it but this is not your problem. If he still hasn’t given me any sign of recognition by the end of the week, I promise I’ll try again.”

 

“You might not have to,” Maggie smiles knowingly as she stares at something over Grace’s shoulder.

 

Wondering what her friend is looking at, she turns around as well only to see Sirius Black coming from the other end of the hallway, pushing through the crowd that’s gathered during the change of classes. But the really scary thing about that image, is that he’s clearly making his way over to Grace and Maggie. And the expression on his face makes it pretty clearly that Evans handed him over the two-way paper.

 

“Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no,” Grace whispers to herself when she quickly turns around to look at Maggie again.

 

He knows. And he’s coming over here to talk to her or yell at her or smile at her. Either way, she’s not ready for it. She’s never going to be ready for it. She could just hide somewhere. Now, she needs to do it now before he actually stands in front of her.

 

“Good luck,” Maggie tells her with a smile before disappearing into the crowd.

 

Why is she leaving Grace by herself right now? Grace needs Maggie to hide her from Sirius Black.

 

“Hi.”

 

The deep voice whispering into her ear makes the hair at the base of her neck rise. Oh, God. He’s here and he knows and he’s talking to her and he sounds kind of…. happy?

 

Grace reluctantly turns around to look at him – because at this point she can’t possibly pull off running away – and she’s surprised to see him wearing a smile on that very, very handsome face. How can anyone be that beautiful? It’s not fair, Grace can’t live up to that smile.

 

“Hi,” She squeaks out, because there’s no way she can say anything else.

 

Sirius Black doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to say anything else either, instead he’s staring at her again in a similar way as he did in the library, except that this time he seems to be more eager to soak up every part of her that makes her Grace. It might not be badly intended but it makes her feel like her every flaw is being magnified right now. She looks away embarrassed, hoping he’ll stop without her having to ask him to.

 

“I’ve been looking for you,” He eventually smiles brightly at her.

 

Well, at least he doesn’t seem to be holding on to any anger or bitterness.

 

“I have Charms right now,” She stupidly says.

 

He doesn’t even seem to hear her.

 

“There are so many things I wants to ask you,” He takes a step closer to her. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

 

“I have Charms,” Grace says again.

 

“I have Transfiguration right now but I do think this is more important.”

 

“I have Charms.”

 

Now that she’s finally found a sentence she can choke out in his presence, it seems to be stuck on repeat.

 

“Do you have to go to it?” He finally frowns.

 

“Yes. I have Charms, now.”

 

“Oh,” He seems very disappointed that she doesn’t want to skip class to talk to him. Why would he want to though? She only has one sentence in her repertoire. “Euhm… okay. Can we talk some other time then?”

 

Grace doesn’t trust herself not to talk about Charms again so she simply nods, even though a talk face-to-face with him freaks her out.

 

“Meet me at the Clock Tower Courtyard after your next class?”

 

She nods again before bolting in the direction of the Charms classroom. God, this was so not how she wanted their first conversation to go.

 

*** 

 

“How did it go?” Maggie asks her as soon as the professor releases them from the classroom.

 

“Bad,” Grace whimpers.

 

“How bad?” She frowns.

 

“The only thing that came out of my mouth was ‘I have Charms’”.

 

“Was that like a pick-up line he didn’t get so you had to keep repeating it?”

 

“No, I was talking about the class. That’s the only thing I could say,” She groans. “And then I actually agreed to meet up with him later.”

 

“That’s great.”

 

“Why?” She narrows her eyes at Maggie.

 

“Because you get a do-over. Try again.”

 

“Maggie, I just can’t talk to the guy.”

 

“Of course you can. That’s all you’ve been doing these past few months. Now you just get to do it while staring at the pretty package as well.”

 

It sounds so simple when she puts it like that but Grace has never been too good with the face-to-face social skills. It was much easier to write things down to a stranger than to look Sirius Black in the eye and tell him she’s mad about Padfoot.

 

“You’ll be fine,” Maggie assures her but as Grace forces herself to walk to the Clock Tower Courtyard, she still doesn’t believe those words.

 

He’s sitting on one of the stone benches with his hands in his lap. He keeps flexing them and putting them on the bench, in his lap, back on the bench before stretching them again and sliding them under his legs, which won’t stop swinging from left to right.

 

As soon as he sees her enter the courtyard, he jumps up to greet her.

 

“Hi.”

 

“Hi.”

 

“Hi.”

 

“You…. already said that.”

 

“Yes. Yes, I did.”

 

Is it possible that Sirius Black is somehow nervous as well? Nervous to talk to her? That sounds ridiculous.

 

But despite him having a bit of anxiety himself, he still looks at her like this is the one place he wants to be, more than anywhere else. Stupidly courageous Gryffindors. If only he could lend her some of that bravery.

 

“I’ve been looking for you,” He says again, most likely hoping to get a particular reaction out of her. “You are not easy to find.”

 

“I…. I didn’t really want to be found.”

 

That’s about as closely to the truth as she’s comfortable with right now.

 

He raises his eyebrows at her but doesn’t ask her why. Not yet, at least.

 

“But you knew I was looking for you?”

 

She nods.

 

“You knew who I was?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Since when?”

 

“Three weeks,” She admits and she can tell when the wheels turning in his head have come to the correct realisation.

 

“That’s when you stopped talking to me,” He frowns. “Did that have something to do with it?”

 

“Yes...”

 

“Oh.”

 

She wants to tell him that it has so much more to do with her than it does with him but once again, she can’t seem to come up with the words.

 

“Evans warned me about this,” Sirius Black shakes his head.

 

“A-about what?”

 

That Moby was Grace who is so afraid of getting rejected by the one guy she actually really likes, that she’d rather not even try. Evans can’t be that smart, right?

 

“I know I have a certain… reputation. Of messing with girls’ heads but I’m always honest with what I want from them. You should know that those aren’t the same as-“

 

“That’s not it,” She quickly says because she doesn’t want to know about that reputation.

 

She’s not blind. Grace has been at Hogwarts long enough to know that the guy most girls dream about is in fact the one standing right in front of her. She’s also heard over the years that he much appreciates those girls’ affections but most of them end up with a broken heart. Even though she doesn’t like that reputation one bit, her not talking to him had nothing to do with him.

 

“Then what was it?” He frowns.

 

“You’re very…”

 

“Flirty?”

 

“No,” She lets out a breathy laugh and Sirius Black’s eyes light up at the sound. “Intimidating.”

 

“I am?”

 

“Yes,” She thinks she probably shouldn’t find it endearing that he doesn’t get what a nervous wreck her turns her into. “I don’t know how to talk to you.”

 

“That’s new. You’ve always known what to say. In fact, it’s been pretty rare to hear you so silent. Up until three weeks ago.”

 

Maggie had said the same thing and of course they both make sense but that was just…

 

“It’s different.”

 

“Why?”

 

Sirius Black doesn’t want her to defend herself to him. He seems to genuinely be curious as to how she experienced the whole thing. There was a time she would have felt perfectly comfortable with telling him anything that came to mind but that was on paper. It’s so much scarier to do it in real life. But he’s here and she’s here and maybe if they’re just completely honest with each other – the way they had always been – maybe they can work this out, whatever that may result into.

 

“I never wanted to impress Padfoot.” She admits.

 

Writing to the other person on the two-way parchment started as a means to pass time and a way to satisfy her curiosity. Somehow it had developed into friendship, which then developed into something more on Grace’s end. But never once did she write to him with the intend to blow his mind. She just wrote down everything that came to mind. He was like a diary who wrote back and neither had need of a filter.

 

“But you want to impress me?” He smiles softly, pleased.

 

“I just don’t want you to be…” Disappointed. Say it. Say it! “I don’t want you to feel like I’m not everything you hoped I would be.”

 

She wants him to be as taken with the real life version of her as she had been with his. It seems like a long shot.

 

“Am _I_ everything you hoped I would be?” He turns the conversation around, opening up with some of his own insecurities as well.

 

She had been taken aback when she found out her friend who makes her heart beat faster in her chest with a drop of ink was actually the notorious Sirius Black. But it wasn’t disappointment, not really. It was shocking to find that the person she thought she knew was actually quite the opposite of who she felt he should have been. But at the end of the day Padfoot is Padfoot, no matter his appearance, reputation or name. How could she have been disappointed by finding out who he was if she already knew who he really was?

 

“You’re Padfoot,” She simply says.

 

“And you’re Moby,” He smiles warmly at her.

 

Exactly. She feels a bit silly for ignoring him for three weeks right now because despite them turning out to be ridiculously handsome Sirius Black and plain Grace Clementine on the outside, they’re still just Padfoot and Moby on the inside. And there’s never been anything scary about Padfoot.

 

“I feel kind of stupid right now,” She tells him.

 

“Why is that?”

 

“I’m really sorry I ignored you. That was mean and selfish. I did try to fix it though. I wanted to tell you but once I was standing in front of you, I couldn’t. That’s why I gave Lily Evans the parchment.”

 

“That reminds me.”

 

He opens his bag to look through it, only to pull out an empty piece of parchment. But Grace recognises it in an instant. She just doesn’t understand why he’s pushing it back into her hands.

 

“It’s yours,” She frowns.

 

“I don’t need two of them,” He laughs. “Besides, I still want you to use it.”

 

“You do?” She can’t fight the smile that creeps onto her face and seems to only enlarge his own.

 

“I also want to see you in person as well of course, now that I know who you are, Grace.” It feels absurdly nice to hear her name come out of his mouth, especially with such affection clear in his voice. “But I also want to talk to you every night before going to bed. So you’ll still be needing that.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

She is truly touched by the gesture and she hopes he knows it.

 

“But,” Grace flinches in surprise when a warm hand gently takes hold of hers. “do come to me in person as well. There are just some things I can’t do through that parchment.”

 

“Like what?” She wonders.

 

“I’m very glad you asked,” He smiles.

 

His left hand gives hers a squeeze while the right hand comes up to her face to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. The delicate gesture makes her draw in her breath, shocked by how nice it feels to have him touch her, even if it’s such a light caress.

 

Though they’re standing much closer together now than they were at the beginning of their conversation, he still takes her by surprise when he leans forward and pulls her into a kiss. For a second she doesn’t know what to do as Sirius Black’s lips, which are surprisingly rougher than they look, move against her own until she finally manages to kiss him back.

 

She hasn’t kissed many people before – some were good, others were terrible – but this is by far the best kiss she’s ever had. Not because he’s so very skilled at it – though it should be mentioned that he can do some impressive things with his mouth that make her feel very light in the head – but because Moby loves Padfoot. And perhaps Sirius Black might come to love Grace Clementine as well. 

 

“Wow,” She breathes out once his lips release hers. “That’s…”

 

“… to be repeated?” He smirks down at her in a way that makes total sense after all the teasing she has read from him in the past.

 

“Yes,” She blushes. “Definitely.”

 

“Good.” He tangles his fingers with hers. “So, what do you want to do on our first date?”

 

“Things we can’t do through parchment,” She smiles coyly.

 

“Why, you little wicked thing, Grace Clementine,” He laughs. “That sounds like the best idea I’ve ever heard.”


End file.
